


Rick's Mindblowers

by ladybird182



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: 70s, 70s Rick, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Comedy, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s03e08 Morty's Mind Blowers, Friendship, Gen, Introspection, Mindblowers, No Romance, No Smut, Plot, Sad, Sad Rick, Sci-Fi, The Flesh Curtains, flesh curtains rick - Freeform, no rickmorty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-14 18:16:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14141757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladybird182/pseuds/ladybird182
Summary: Things get a little bit real in this one, broh. Rated T for language.[Also on Wattpad and FFN: @ladybird182]





	1. Grandkids These Days

"Morty, c-come h-URP-ere and hand me that extractor," Rick called from the garage, loud enough to wake up the whole house.

Morty jolted awake from his half-asleep daze. He blinked and rubbed his bloodshot eyes, glancing at the clock. It read **1:24 AM**. Shit. He needed to pass this Spanish final. Why, oh why did Rick have to drag him off so often? Suddenly, Morty was suffering for not focusing all semester. How was he going to memorize all of these verb conjugations in the next six hours?

He stood up. Wait, how did Rick even know he was awake? He'd told everyone he was going to bed early at dinner. Oh well, duty calls. Grabbing his textbook, he went downstairs and walked into the garage. He wordlessly handed Rick the extractor and whatever else he asked for as he read the words over again. _Boot verbs: empezar (e-ie), poder (o-ue)..._

God, why couldn't he remember anything? All he could think about was Jessica saying hi to him in the hallway the other day. The way her lips curved, her beautiful eyes...but most importantly, her bare thighs with her teasing little skirt -

"Morty! Jesus, Mo-URP-ty, what are you doing? Y-y-y-you know what's gonna happen if I don't fix this thing? We're gonna blow up this whole neighborhood. Is that what you want, Morty? You wanna blow us up?" The drool by Rick's mouth was really getting out of hand. Morty almost wanted to get him a tissue this time.

His eyes widened slightly and he shook his head. Morty was suddenly alert when Rick mentioned blowing up the neighborhood. If he did that, he'd look terrible for Jessica tomorrow...and he wouldn't pass his final. "W-what did you need, Rick?"

"Pliers." He scurried to grab the pliers, sighing. Maybe if he was smart, like his mom and Summer and Rick, life would be easier. Why did Morty have to be the dumb one? Why did he have to be like his dad?

"Yes! Morty, we did it! Y-you know, I really thought this was gonna be i-URP-t, I thought we'd have to move dimensions again. This was a close one." Rick did a happy jig, setting down his tools and wiping his hands. He glanced at his grandson. Morty looked away, taking a seat in an old chair.

"M-Morty, what's going on?" Rick turned around, leaning against his table as he took a swig from his flask. He eyed him intensely, and Morty finally gave in.

"I have a final tomorrow and I can't think of - I can't focus on - I'm not…" Morty struggled with conveying his point. "I-I-I wish I was smart, like you, Rick."

Rick frowned. He looked like he wanted to say something, but then he scowled. "School doesn't _matter_. Your mother and your stupid father might tell y-you otherwise but they - it won't matter. You think I got good grades in high school, Morty? No. I put my energy into things that matter, l-l-l-like science." He took a long, thoughtful swig.

Morty frowned. "Rick, you always say that. But w-w-what am I gonna do when it _does_ start to matter, like when I-I have to - when I need to get a job?"

The boy's grandpa rolled his eyes. "Oh my g-URP-od. People who think like that end up like your dad. I-Is that what you want, to end up as useless as your old man?"

"No, but -"

"Then stop being such a worrywart and focus on what's more important."

Morty stood up, grabbing his textbook. "No!" He exclaimed. The older man looked at him warily. "Maybe it's easy for you, 'cause you're the smartest man in the u-universe or whatever! B-B-But I'm just me, and I can't just give up on my life like that! You're smart and I'm dumb, remember?" He pointed at the drawing on the wall, demonstrating how Rick's genius brain waves were cancelled out by Morty's Morty Waves. "So stop pretending like you want me for anything other than covering your ass!"

Rick's expression went blank, as it always did when people blew up on him. He watched his grandson storm away, too wrapped up in his fury to care anymore. And then Rick seemed to snap back to reality. "I swear to God, Morty, you're becoming more and more like your sister by the second! All teenagery and hormonal and shit!" He shouted after him.

Morty went back to his room, hoping the rest of the family hadn't heard Rick and Morty going at each other. Well, his dad wasn't much to worry about. He sat back down at his desk, miserably staring into the pages of the textbook. It was so late and he was so tired…

Within the next fifteen minutes, Morty was back to being passed out over his textbook, drool spilling over the pages as he snored away.

Rick sank into his seat, feeling the empty void in him swallow him whole. He couldn't avoid his problems by turning into a pickle this time. He couldn't run away again, either. He couldn't devastate Beth again.

Annoyed with himself, he stood up and moved his desk chair aside to reveal one of the hatches in the garage floor. Morty's Mindblowers, as Rick liked to call them. He climbed the ladder down into the room, looking at the room of erased memories. Red, pink, and blue memories all labeled and sitting in rows. All of these were memories involving Morty.

Rick glanced over his shoulder before picking up a red one at the end of one of the rows. Something triggered and part of the wall slid back to reveal a shoebox. He set the lid aside to reveal black memories. This was what Rick did when he felt like this. Revisit his own unwanted memories and let his self-hatred fester until he felt like erasing those memories away again. He slid the helmet on and revisited his first unwanted memory, simply labeled ' **High School** '.

He lay in the chair, tilting his head back as his vision faded and he saw the world as he saw it fifty years ago as a teenager, where the two most important things in his world were his projects and...someone.


	2. Don't Make Friends In High School

A girl in bell bottom jeans sat in her seat in the back of a classroom, twirling her pencil around as she stared out the window in boredom. On more than one occasion, she'd considered simply walking out. She could blame it on hippie culture. The flowers were just calling for her, and she needed to belt Bob Dylan songs to them that instant. She rolled her eyes at the thought. But with the bandana scarf in her hair, she wasn't really in a position to make fun of hippies.

Across the room sat Rick Sanchez. He was getting so pissed off that he was about to stand up and storm out. He'd done exactly that in the past, and he wasn't afraid to do it again. The kid next to him, Michael, wouldn't shut up about his stupid love life. Jennifer _this,_ Jennifer _that._

"Dude, I don't care about how you scored with Jenny last weekend! Like, y-y-you - why would you tell me, of all people? Go make some friends, geek!" Rick exclaimed. The class was silent for a second, and then everyone erupted in wild laughter. It was quickly silenced as Rick was given detention, which he couldn't care less about. He even made a point of throwing away the detention slip while the teacher wasn't looking. The girl across the room pursed her lips in distaste.

"Midterms are coming up! Your midterm project will be with a partner…" The teacher droned on, but the girl had stopped listening as soon as she heard 'partner'. Oh no, hell no. No one in this stupid class was smarter than a dull pencil. She'd have to do the whole project on her own, as usual. And no one wanted to be her partner anyway. In a school full of airheads, she felt like the only one who thought beyond it all.

Once the teacher finished talking, everyone stood up, running to their friends to partner up. The girl looked around for someone, anyone she could partner with. Finally, she approached someone. "Hey, Tina, you wanna -" Before she could even finish, Tina grabbed her friend's arm.

"I already have a partner."

In the end, there were none but two. Rick hadn't even tried to find anyone. The other person would either do the work for the two of them or they'd give up and take the bad grade. He waited for whoever his partner was, lazily slumped in his seat.

The girl approached, her expression dead as she took a seat beside Rick. Of all people, him? How was she supposed to pass her midterm with an idiot like him around? She made sure to keep her seat as far as humanly possible from his as she cleared her throat to speak.

"Don't bother," Rick said suddenly. His long, shaggy hair tickled his shoulders as he turned to look at her. She cocked an eyebrow. "L-Look, I'll make this easy for you. You don't have to talk to me, I don't have to talk to you. We both know that y-y-you'll just do this damn thing on your own 'cause you give a shit and I don't."

She stared at him, at his single pierced ear and his spiked bracelet and his stupid looking choker. Who was this idiot, telling her what to do? Suddenly, she was angry at her own predictability. Screw this. She wasn't going to do this stupid thing on her own.

"No. I don't care about you, _Sanchez_ , your stupid clothes, or that thing on your face you call a beard. And I'm sure you don't care about me, either. But I'll be damned if I'm doing this on my own." Realizing that she was coming off too strongly, she cleared her throat again and pursed her lips.

Rick was just about to turn away when she spoke. He couldn't help but be surprised at her unabashed words, but his expression stayed dead as stone. "Alright, you fuckin' narc. Hang on, what was your name again?"

The idiot to end all idiots. That's who he was. She stared at him with a look Rick would later give to his grandson many times. "Mira," she said finally. "Mira Milne, nice to meet you." She ironically stuck out her hand to shake. He unironically accepted, shaking before letting go.

Older Rick awakened, pulling out the memory and setting it back into the box. He was going to need to be _way_ more drunk for this. He leaned back, taking in the memory of his old friend. They'd promised to leave each other's lives, peacefully, when they no longer had time. She had to go to college and he had his science. And then Rick married someone and she married someone, and then they had kids. He wondered if she had grandkids too. He wondered if she was even still alive.

He set aside the helmet for a moment and went upstairs to refill his flask. As soon as it was refilled, he gulped it all down. He refilled it one more time and then stumbled his way back downstairs.

The next memory he grabbed was titled 'High School 2'.


	3. Rick And Roll

“So where do you wanna -”

 

“Come to my house,” Rick said shortly. He couldn’t be bothered to go to other people’s houses. It was always such an unnecessary debacle, and parents hated him anyway.  He couldn’t imagine what Mira’s parents must have been like, with how stuck up Mira was herself.

 

She gave him a strange look at his quick response. “Um...okay.”

 

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, don’t you worry. I didn’t invite you over to fuck.”

 

She was instantly revolted at this. “Oh my god, what the hell? Why would you think that I’d _ever_ want to - never in a million years - who do you think you are…”

 

Rick watched her freak out for the next minute or so, his arms crossed with a smug expression on his face.

 

Mira stopped as soon as she realized that he was getting joy out of this. She pursed her lips, standing up. “Your house,” she muttered before walking away.

 

That weekend, Mira showed up at the address Rick had given her. She was unsure about a lot of things. Had he given her the right address? Did he even remember that they were supposed to meet? She’d slipped notes into his locker to remind him every day that week, but she soon realized that he never bothered to open it. And she wasn’t going to talk to him in person, of course. Either way, she was putting a lot of faith in Rick, and she didn’t like it.

 

Mira stared at the house she stopped in front of. It was about as boring and suburban as it got, just like the rest of the neighbourhood. She was half-surprised that he didn’t live at the local landfill, with how terrible he smelled.

 

The garage was opened to reveal a workshop of sorts. Mechanical parts were strewn everywhere, some of them in hastily labeled boxes and others laying around. Rick stood at a table, in...a lab coat and jeans? How oddly regular of him. She cautiously approached, silent as she took a closer look at her surroundings. A meticulously cared for Fender hung on the wall in glorious display. Beside it was a little pouch fixed to the wall. She guessed it held picks.

 

What Mira didn’t know was that Rick was working on his portal gun. If only he could get it to work portably...the possibilities would be endless. The Federation already had the regular portals now. If he could make it portable, he and Birdperson wouldn’t have to dimension-hop as much anymore. And they’d be a step ahead of the Feds for once.

 

“Rick, can you hear me?” Mira waved her hand in front of his face.

 

Rick glanced up. None of this school B.S. would matter once he made this gun. Why was she bothering him again? Right, the project.

 

“Yeah, whatever.” He set down the crude gun and moved his chair so he could set his feet up on the table. “What are we doing again?”

 

She didn’t bother being annoyed anymore. The faster she made this happen, the faster she could get it over with. “Okay, so we have to pick one thing that we’ve been learning about this semester and we have to research it fully before - what is that?”

 

Rick took another swig of alcohol, raising his eyebrows in defiance of her judgemental gaze. Mira realized that this must be why he smelled so bad.

 

“Geez, if my parents saw that…” She shook her head before returning to what she was saying.

 

A few hours later, they weren’t doing so bad. They’d cranked out plenty of work for the day. Weirdly enough, Rick’s alcohol consumption didn’t make that much of an impact on their work.

 

Mira leaned back, gazing out at the sunset beside him. They both decided on staying several feet apart. She looked at the Fender again. “You in a band or something?”

 

“Y-yeah.” He paused to belch loudly before continuing. “We’re c-URP-alled The Flesh Curtains.” He slid a photo out of his pocket to show her.

 

Rick had a very intense expression on his face in the picture. Beside him was the vocalist, apparently a man of some sort. Except he had wings. Maybe they were fake wings? But they didn’t go with the theme at all. But her eyes were more focused on a cat playing the drums.

 

“Your vocalist has wings and your drummer is a cat?” She glanced at him.

 

“Oh, you mean Birdperson and Squanchy?”

 

Mira plastered on a fake smile and nodded as though she understood, now positive that he was crazy. She was thinking about reporting him to the police. Strange, other-worldly technology...maybe he’d been experimenting with making humanoid creatures. And what kind of name was ‘Squanchy’ for a cat? That was the real crime.

 

Rick was about to say something before the memory cut off. Older Rick awakened again, sighing and rubbing his head. “S-should’ve made these damn things better. What kind of ending was that?”

 

He was getting tired of all the continuity. He was just going to grab random memories from now on. Reaching into the box, he grasped the first one he found.

 

“‘AIDS Booger Poop Copy 2’? How does that help me r-remember anything at-URP-at all?” Rick threw his hands into the air. Nonetheless, he stuck the memory into the helmet, expecting the worst.


	4. Birdperson And Rick Forever (No Homo)

‘AIDS Booger Poop Copy 2’ was a documentation of a particularly crazy acid trip. Ah, the sweet memories of human drugs. But why did he remove this memory? It wasn’t unpleasant to ride the wave of LSD again. Maybe he saved the memory to relive it when he wanted to, especially after he built up a tolerance and had to quit. Either way, he regretted making such shitty labels. Not that he’d make better ones anytime soon, but still.

 

He sighed, taking a swig of his flask and looking at the ceiling. The fresh memory of drugs made a dopey smile curve his lips. Dammit, now he was craving Kalaxian Crystals. But he didn’t have enough energy to go get any. He extended an arm into the box to grab another memory instead. 

 

‘Crazy Ass House Party’? That sounded promising. He stuck it into the helmet.

 

Younger Rick sat on a porch, carelessly swigging his fifth beer. The house was filled with teens slow dancing to Olivia Newton John. “I Honestly Love You” played as friends and lovers alike shared the dance floor. He didn’t care for this sappy bullshit. He just wanted to get back inside and play another song. The strap held the guitar to him as he strummed, taking a sip with the other hand. It was all metallic noises without the amp, and he eventually stopped strumming.

 

He didn’t even notice when Bird Person came outside. “Rick, why are you outside?” Rick looked up but didn’t respond. Bird Person immediately understood. “You are inebriated. You should go home to prevent potential physical injury.”

 

“N-URP-o. I-I wanna perform the last, uh, the last set or song or - URP - whatever we were gonna per- do next.” Rick tried to stand up. Over the years, he’d hold his alcohol better. But right now, it only took five beers, seven shots, and glass of lame wine to lose himself.

 

“It would be better for you to get rest. Please go home.” Rick finally managed to stand up, looking Bird Person in the eye and swaying drunkenly. He shoved past after a few moments. 

 

“Fine, whatever. If - URP- If you don’t want me in the Curtains, t-t-then maybe you should j-just tell me.”

 

“That is not what I am insinuating. Your sense of logic is impaired, a clear indication that you are drinking more than normal. Something is wrong, Rick. What is it?”

 

“Jesus, d-URP-ude, stop reading into - you don’t understand - j-j-just leave me alone, for Christ’s sake.” Rick turned back around, trying to figure out how to get home.

 

“If I leave you, you will hurt yourself. A mind like yours cannot be rendered useless when we need it the most.” In the background, Olivia Newton John’s song was coming to a close.

 

Rick turned around again, and his eyes filled with tears. “I don’t w-wanna die, BP. It’s like - I know - We can’t run away from them forever. A-A-Am I even smart enough to outrun them for so long?”

 

“Only the smartest man in the multiverse could achieve what you have in such a short time. We do not have any other choice now. We have committed atrocities under the Federation’s eyes, and if we are to protect ourselves, we must not settle anywhere.”

 

Rick tried to blink his tears away, but they spilled down his cheeks, hot and wet. He nodded in agreement with Bird Person’s words.    
  


“Let us make a promise that you will not get acclimated to C-137. We must be ready to leave at any given point without hesitation.”

 

Rick reached up to wipe away his tears and blow his nose. “Y-URP-eah, I promise I won’t get used to living here.”

 

Behind them, the house was lively again and calling for an encore. A girl stuck her head out of the door. “BP, Rick, get back in here and get this party going again!” There was a loopy, slightly drunk grin plastered on her face as she waved them back in.

 

“I promise,” Rick muttered again, beginning to walk back inside.

 

Older Rick frowned as he returned back to reality. Yeah, he understood why he removed this one. He didn’t need his old, childish fears holding him back, that was for sure. No way in hell was he scared of the Feds now, nor did he ever question his own brilliance. The Rick in that memory was weak and young and naive and...compassionate.

 

He leaned back in the chair. It wouldn’t be long before Morty would become the same way. Morty was already beginning to change. He wasn’t so spineless and dumb anymore - he had as much capacity as Rick sometimes. And of course, the kid had something that Rick had made himself forget and store in a shoebox. He had morality and empathy.

 

Rick entertained the thought of Morty taking Rick’s place and working in this same garage. He couldn’t help it - he loved his grandson.

 

Wow, Rick was really drunk. He’d just used the words ‘love’ and ‘grandson’ in the same sentence. He thought about what to do about Morty. It wasn’t unusual for him to blow up at Rick; it was quickly becoming a frequent occurrence. He thought about doing what he did to that math teacher, Mr. Goldenfold, and get Morty the A he needed to get back on track. But how much longer was Rick going to have to do this?

 

For once, he was thinking about the future. He wished there were a scientific solution to this. Morty wasn’t a difficult chemical equation. He wasn’t a mechanical gadget Rick could fix with a few tools. He was...Morty.

 

Rick was constantly aware that he was being selfish in using the boy to hide from the Federation. He was taking away from Morty’s teenagehood and dragging him off to do crazy things instead. He was almost scared that Morty was right. Was he just hiding behind his dumb grandson without a care for what would happen to him?

 

He wouldn’t admit to anyone else how much this worried him. Hell, he wouldn’t admit to feeling emotions like anxiety and worry in the first place.

 

No, he had to stop doing this. Morty wasn’t stupid. Rick was just prohibiting him from growing. And until Rick died, that’s how it would be. He wondered if Morty ever wished Rick were dead. After all, Rick was the cause for all the misadventures of the family. He’d heard what Jerry said about him on Dwarf Terrace-9, that tiny planet that the Smiths escaped to after the disaster that Bird Person’s mate-melding ceremony was.

 

Jesus, since when did he care about what  _ Jerry _ thought? He really was the lowest status member of the family. At the thought of this, Rick tipped the rest of his flask into his mouth, leaning back. Everything was so confusing. He didn’t understand stupid people and their stupid feelings. The only people that kept him grounded were his wife and his friends. One of those things didn’t work out. The other thing...well, the only human that understood was Mira. He thought about visiting her.

 

Or he could just ignore his problems and keep wallowing until he felt like erasing away the old memories again. Deciding to choose the latter, he stuck another memory in. He realized too late that he forgot to read the label first.

  
  



	5. Mira and Rick Forever (No Hetero)

“Of all people, Donna? Really?” Mira looked at him, her face contorting in disappointment as she sipped from her can of Tab and lazily scrawled the math homework that was due after lunch.

 

“Shut up. As if you h-haven’t liked people unrequitedly.” Rick grabbed the soda out of her hands as she was going for another sip and gulped down half of it. “Ugh, why do you drink this shit? It’s worse than like...sexism on Cosmion.” She narrowed her eyes as she took back the cola, silently warning him about digging himself into a hole he wouldn’t be able to himself out of.

 

“No, s-seriously. The Cosmionians have some fucked up, uh, social issues. Like, the women don’t even get paid-”

 

She cut him off abruptly. “Rick, are you undermining sexism on Earth by saying that it’s worse somewhere else?”

“No. I j- I was - URP - whatever. Anyway, you didn’t say anything about the first thing I said.” He switched topics quickly, deciding to not pick a fight he wasn’t qualified to win.

 

“What thing?” Mira pretended to have forgotten about it, but he saw through it. Rick gave her a look. “Ugh, whatever. No, I don’t waste my time dating people. I’d rather, like, study and go to college.”

 

“I don’t want t-to  _ date  _ Donna,  _ Mira _ ,” Rick said.

 

“No, of course you don’t. You want to  _ marry - _ ” Mira cut herself off, realizing what he meant. Embarrassed, she muttered, “Gross.” She went back to drinking her Tab and scribbling down homework.

 

“It’s not gro-”

 

“It is.”

 

Pause. “Can’t talk about anything with you,” Rick rolled his eyes.

 

“Rick,” she set her pencil down to look at him, “would you tell your sister about your uncontrollable libido in graphic detail?”

 

“You see me as a brother?”

 

Mira rolled her eyes. “Yeah, a psychotic, alcoholic brother.”

 

Something about this made Rick feel warm inside. He half-smiled, nudging her. “Alright, sis.”

 

“Don’t push it,” she murmured, unable to hide the smile of joy on her face.

 

Older Rick awakened, grabbing another one without looking again.

 

Mira awkwardly sat in the garage, pulling her knees up to her chest as she watched Rick work on. She still didn’t understand what he was doing. Fixing up a skateboard? That wouldn’t explain why he had so much junk lying around. Ugh, why did her partner have to be so  _ weird?  _ She just wanted to finish the stupid midterm project and never talk to him again.

 

“Rick, it’s been an hour. When are we going to start?” She asked, annoyance tinging her tone.

 

He didn’t look up. “Yeah, yeah, hang on. I just need to...hey, go get me that screwdriver.”

 

“No, I’m not your assistant. Now stop doing...whatever the hell you’re doing and work on this like you promised.”

 

“First of all, I didn’t  _ pr- _ URP _ -omise  _ you anything, Mira. I just said I’d do it. That means I can take that back whenever I want to. So you better watch ou- watch your mouth.”

 

“Excuse me?” She stood up immediately. “ _ I  _ need to watch my mouth? I’ve sat here for the last week, waiting for you to actually do your part rather than work on - what is that, a skateboard? Whatever! I don’t care. I don’t know how anyone can fucking tolerate you.” She turned away and began working again, her cheeks reddening in fury.

 

“It’s a portal gun,” Rick muttered, not making any attempt to refute her anger.

 

“It’s a what?” 

 

“It’s a - come here, I’ll show you so you stop being an adamant bitch.”

 

Gritting her teeth to keep cursing him out, she stood up and walked over. “If this isn’t majorly important, I’m going to kick your teeth out.” This was cause for an eye roll on Rick’s side.

 

“Sure, whatever. So basically there’s this thing called, uh, crystallized xanthanite. It transmits electrons across dimensions.”

 

“A-Across dimensions?” Her eyes widened as she stared at him in wonder.

 

“Yeah. It’s commonly used in, like, interdimensional cable and radio systems...and interdimensional travel. And going through interdimensional customs is such a pain in the ass, so I’m trying to make my own portal. I mean, I already have the actual portal down, I just need -”

 

“Wait, wait, wait. Interdimensional...holy cow, like different dimensions? Like alternate worlds and aliens? And alternate...selves. That-That’s some crazy shit.”

 

“O-URP-kay, come on, process this faster so I can finish my explanation.” She eventually calmed down, reminding herself of why she was there. “So long story short, I have this portal, but once I leave, I need to be able to get back. So I need to make the portal portal-able.”

 

“Nice pun. Okay, so why isn’t it working?”

 

“I really don’t expect you to understand -”

 

“Try me.”

 

Rick gave her a bored look. Sighing, he began. “The xanthanite only works for random locations. I can’t influence where it decides to take me. And as soon as I can figure that out, I can put into the form of a gun.”

 

“Why a gun?” She furrowed her brow. She thought a bow and arrow design would be better.

 

“Why do you care?” He shot back, getting weirdly defensive about his design.

 

“Uh...I don’t?” Mira said. A dumb argument was no use to anyone.

 

“Correct answer.” Rick crossed his arms.

 

She shook her head, trying to get back on topic.“So you need a variable that can read what you’re thinking, which’ll control the xan - the, uh...whatever you said.” She paused, thinking about it for a second. “Hey, remember that guy at MIT, uh...Bill Parker, I think? He made those plasma globe things.” Before she could continue, he interrupted.

 

“Holy shit, you’re right.”

 

Mira blinked. “I am? I didn’t even explain-”

 

“You don’t need to.”

 

They both looked at the gun, and then proceeded to geek out and talk about the logistics of a plasma ball on the device.

 

“And then…”

 

“I’d be able to have the gun pick up my brainwaves, and I’d be able to choose whatever dimension I want to go to,” Rick finished her sentence. 

 

“Exactly. But you shouldn’t trust me, I haven’t brushed up on my physics in like a year -”

 

Rick’s face broke out of its usual disgruntled expression as he grinned from ear to ear, throwing his arms around her. Surprised, she reached up and awkwardly patted his shoulder. When he pulled away, he began talking excitedly. “Mira, we did it! You’re a-a fucking genius!”

 

“No, Rick, you’re a genius. I’m, uh, sorry for blowing up at you earlier. And assuming you were stupid at first.”

 

“You thought I was stupid?”

 

“Uh…no. Anyway, this whole interdimensional stuff is gonna take a lot of time for me to wrap my head around. So, uh, what are their names again? That bird guy and the cat?”

 

“Bird Person and Sqaunchy.”

 

“Oh. Well, are they from other dimensions too?”

 

“No, they’re from our dimension, just different planets. BP’s from Bird World, and Squanchy’s from Planet Squanch.”

 

“Creative names, huh? Tell me about them.”

 

“I c-URP-an do better. I can show you.”

 

She looked delighted. “Really?”

 

“Yeah, let’s go.” Rick grabbed keys off of the corner of his desk.

 

“Right now?”

 

“Yes, right now, when else? Grab us some beer for the road and let’s gooo!”

 

She walked over the mini-fridge, grabbing a couple of beers and following Rick into his spaceship. “I don’t know how many you want, so I got, like, five bottles.”

 

“You didn’t get any for yourself?” He responded. She looked a little disturbed by this. Five beers was a lot.

 

“I’m not going to let you drink all of these.”

 

“Oh, watch me, motherfucker,” Rick tried to grab a bottle from her arms, but she held on tight. He reached down to tickle her and make her let go. She giggled, trying not to loosen her grip but eventually complying.

 

“You suck, Sanchez.”

  
  



	6. Wilson (Expensive Mistakes)

Ugh, Rick really needed to read the labels on those mindblowers. Going in without any sort of context was confusing. One mindblower would have an established relationship with Mira and the other wouldn’t. He didn’t like continuity, but he also didn’t like jumping around all the time. He almost considered organizing them, and almost laughed at himself. Puh-lease. People like Rick had better things to do.

 

Maybe he was just getting too drowsy for this. It was nearly four in the morning. Not that he wasn’t used to staying up; it was just the alcohol getting to his head.  _ Whatever _ , he thought as he grabbed the next one: ‘High School 349 - Final HD Version’.

 

The sky was beautiful. It looked as though someone had held up a piece of black paper to the sun and poked tiny holes in it with a needle to make the stars.

 

Hot summer nights like these were for sitting on Rick’s roof, staring at the great beyond, and ice cold beer. Mira glanced over at Rick, the bottle in her hand hanging loosely. Before they’d met, she had never touched a drop of alcohol. He was such a bad influence on her.

 

Life was so good, but things were about to change quickly. They were days away from graduation, and then what? They were both afraid to talk about it.

 

“There’s something-” Mira said at the same time that Rick said, “We should talk ab-”

 

They both stopped and looked at each other for a while, hoping the other would do the talking. Mira took the opportunity. “So...I guess high school’s over. What are you gonna do?”

 

He gave a nonchalant shrug, like he didn’t care. “Same thing as us-URP-ual. This stupid place made me realize that this whole...school bullshit isn’t for me.”

 

“But, Rick, what are you gonna  _ do _ ?” Mira asked again. Rick shook his head, confused.

 

“Whaddya mean?” He paused, and then he understood. “Don’t get all sentimental on me, Mira. I’ll be fine. I’ll fi-URP-gure someth - I’ll take care of things. So don’t you - don’t you worry about me.” Her eyebrows furrowed in worry as she looked away. Rick sighed. “We can’t do this anymore.”

 

“Do what anymore?” She mumbled, swigging her beer.

 

“ _ This. _ ” He motioned to themselves. Seeing her confused expression, he explained. “Don’t you get it? W-w-we can’t be friends anymore if...Look, we’re different people. We always have been. You were always going t-URP-o go to some Ivy League and do that whole thing where you settle down and I never wanted that. You’ll go to med school or whatever. I’ll just be here, doing my shit until the feds find me, and then I’ll be gone. We can’t do this whole friend thing if we’re the - if we’re the ones holding each other back from doing what we do.”

 

Mira was silent for a long time. She gulped down the rest of her bottle before setting it aside. Rick watched her intently. He didn’t know what to say. She reached up to swiftly wipe a tear away. “Y-Yeah, I...guess you’re right. But I don’t...God, Rick, I don’t wanna stop being friends.” 

 

He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. His heart became heavier in his chest when those words left her mouth. “Maybe...we don’t have to to-URP-tally cut each other off,” he began. “Like, live separate lives but…” Rick tried to find the right words.

 

“But...still be there for, uh, for each other when we need it?”

“Y-URP-eah.” His lips curved in a rare but genuine smile, and she smiled back. Rick glanced down to see her hand facing palm up - an offering to take her hand. Cautiously, he took it and after a moment, held it tight. Both of them had entire lives to get on with, but neither of them wanted this to end. After all, their whole friendship was based on high school being pointless. But suddenly, neither of them wanted to go.

 

This memory connected to another one, so the scene cut to graduation. The sun shone angrily, punishing the people below with its heat. One by one, sunburned students went up to accept their diplomas in sweaty emerald colored gowns and caps. Mira proudly wore an honor stole and tassels as she went up, being sure to thank the administrators. She plastered on a fake smile, hiding her hatred for these people. Rick, on the other hand, scorned the principal as he accepted his diploma. Principal Pickle’s grin faltered a little at his mean comments.

 

Rick had a personal vendetta against Pickle, which he was very vocal about.  _ “Like, pickles are c-URP-ool, but this dude looks like he has ten of ‘em up his -”  _ That was all he’d gotten to say before Mira threw her eraser at him.

 

When they both returned to their seats, he made eye contact with her. The mischievous look in his eyes made her want to laugh. They were keeping a long-held promise of theirs, one they’d made when they first met.

 

The last name, Piano Zylofone, was called. That was the cue.

 

Rick and Mira jumped out of their chairs and onto the stage, shoving the school official that was about to speak aside.

 

“This school is shit and I never learned anything here!” They yelled into the mic, flipping everyone off. Cackling with laughter, they ran away with their diplomas in hand.

 

Older Rick awakened, wishing he could be staring at the night sky with her again. How long had it been since they last spoke to each other? He tried to remember, but failed to recall a memory. He probably erased that memory from his head, too. 

 

When he thought about her, it was hard to focus on being...himself. It was hard to be eccentric and uncaring and free of any responsibilities. There was something about women like Mira, his wife, and Beth. Something that made him want to care.

 

And then, despite everything he told himself, he pulled out his interdimensional phone.

 

_ We’ll contact each other only in the case of an emergency. Okay?  _ Her words were as clear as day in his mind. They even pinky promised.

 

Once again, he ignored consequences and went in with his same old ‘fuck it’ attitude. “Rules are for b-URP-ureaucrats,” he grumbled to no one in particular.

 

Fingers fumbling slightly, he searched for Mira’s contact. He looked away as he pressed the button to make the call. Riiiiiing...riiiiing...riiiiing...and it went to voicemail. Rick wasn’t sure what he was expecting. No one picked up in the middle of the night.

 

And then, just as he was about to pass out from exhaustion, his phone buzzed. He awakened instantly, picking up. “Mira?” He said, hopeful. 

 

“Are you concerned with your tender butthole flaps? Flimpy Glorp introduces his new butthole flap cream! Discoloration and pain is promised to go away within seven sols. Buy yours now for a special discount on our testicle oint -”

 

Rick ended the call before the telemarketer could say any more. This whole thing was stupid. What would calling Mira do? It wasn’t as if she could fix his relationship with his family. She was a brain surgeon, not a psychologist. Annoyed, he set his phone on ‘Do Not Disturb’ and let himself fall asleep with the mindblower helmet still on his head.

  
  



End file.
